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2013-11-13 Confessions and Rejections
Natasha has found a bench, and is sitting on it, seeming to be attempting to content herself with the sounds of the city, the slight breeze, and the night sky for company. Her shoes lay, abandoned, on the ground by the bench, her bare feet sitting on the stone seat as she sits with her knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her expression is puzzled, to say the least. Her ID lays beside her on the bench, still glowing with the last message received-- the face of Tony Stark can be glimpsed in the 'From' field if one is observant. She looks somehow both very young and yet very old-- it is something about her eyes, filled with a certain cynicism that comes from three quarters of a century of a world of war, genocide, and cruelty combined with her own experiences as a government agent of varying varieties-- assassin, seductress, spy, warrior vixen, now virtually a bureaucrat-- throughout those periods in history. She has seen much, yet in many ways, she has seen nothing. She does not seem to be waiting for anybody, nor expecting anybody. Her shoulders are slightly slumped, though her posture is tense. Clint comes out of the mansion still dressed for the club and with a sportsbag under his arm. Seeing Nat he stops and frowns watching her for a moment, unable to not look worried seeing her like this. Then he says to himself "Damn it, Clint," and makes his way over. "Got your text," he says. "Was going to reply before I headed home. What's up?" Natasha actually jumps a bit, startled. She /must/ have been deeply lost in thought. "Clint..." she breathes. She grabs the ID, making room for him on the bench. Whatever had been sent last--it was long, because the act of her grabbing the ID sends it scrolling wildly. She taps it off, dropping the ID beside her shoes. "I wasn't expecting--" she pauses. "Well, I suppose it is as good of a time as any, yes?" That look of concern grows deeper when Nat is actually startled by his approach. He frowns at the volume of texts going through her phone. "It's not an emergency is it? Or Fury?" he asks. "Fury's okay?" why else would Nat be this rattled. Natasha stands, tilting her head, puzzled, then glances back down to the ID. She sighs. "Clint..." she says, catching his eyes. "No. It is not the director." "It is me." She pauses for a moment, then moves a step to him, standing close enough to kiss him, close enough to judo throw him across the yard. "There is something we must discuss," she murmurs. "And I do not wish to, but I know it is the right thing." Before he can argue, before he can speak, she says, almost in a rush: "I should have... I should have let you go. No. I should have told you before I left you that Fury had me undercover in HYDRA. But I did not. Life is duty for me, duty is life." "I have done many things, Clint. Terrible things. To you, to others. I did not wish to do them-- they were necessary, I believed at the time. But this, us-- that was never duty. You were never /duty/. You were Clint, and you were my frustration and my hope and my joy. And duty took that away." She is shaking, now. Trembling even. From the look on her face, she had likely never strung together so much genuine emotion in her lifetime. She looks away, her voice growing soft, so soft it was almost unheard... except the wind brings these words to Clint's ears. "I loved you then-- that is why I could not leave you to Strucker, even though I risked the mission shooting you-- Fury would have had me leave you to prove my loyalty. And I have not stopped." She shivers. "I see Sawyer, and she cries because she dreams of killing Tony because she was directed to by another. I know her nightmares, because I have /never/ forgiven myself for pulling that trigger. Tony says he will not see her, because he loves her and she deserves more than him. I tell him, Tony, you must. Love is a fleeting moment of happiness-- you must take what little the world offers you for that. And I have been ignoring it for so long myself. Happiness is for others, never for me. I have duty." "But I cannot throw it away, Clint. I still have my duty, but I will not ignore a chance to have, even fleeting, happiness as well. Together we were much more than we ever have been apart. We fit, lubymiy. We have always." And she stands there-- and from the haunted look on her face, it is clear she expects him to run, as he did last night. Clint scowls and turns away "Damn it, Nat," he says as he did the other night, but this time it's sharper. "You don't have the right," he steps away and takes a long slow breath before he turns back to face her. "I don't need this right now. I know you're hurting and that you lost your powers. I've been there, after the Crisis, when I was beat to hell and I tried to make a life with Bobbi, but it's too much. I can't handle it, so," he raises his hand and lets the fingers open and contract. "I'm sorry, I can't be /that/ guy either. The guy who forgives what happened. Who lets you choose duty over me again. Anyhow, I'm with America, and I'm not going to be the kind of asshole hurts her." He looks at her, lowering his hand but squeezing it into a fist. "I'm sorry Nat." At this, most women would cry. But, at least, for this moment, Natasha does not. She looks at him, her arms at her sides, completely open. "No," she replies simply. "This isn't because I've lost my powers-- if you think--" she stops, shaking her head. There is a moment of silence. Then finally, she says, "It has been on my mind for some time now-- though I refused to accept it, Clint. After Ale--" she cuts her words short. She sighs. "Never again. I will call Director Fury /this moment/ and resign if that is what it takes. I will never lie to you, or keep you in the dark again." She takes a breath, shaking. "I never asked for Tony to forgive me-- and I used him. I never loved him, never cared. He was an /assignment/. And he forgave me. You think I came to you because I am a little slower now? Even without the Red Room's augmentation, I can still kick your ass, Barton," she teases, but there is pain there-- it breaks through the attempted lightness. "As for America-- if anything, I have to thank her for this. Had she not pointed out what I had been too damned stubborn to allow myself to accept, I would not be here." She takes a breath. "Yes, hurting, and yes, expecting you to storm away, and go run off with her because she's the /easier/ choice." She closes her eyes. "But she's not the /right/ one." She shrugs. "But, that is your nature. I cannot change it." Clint looks at her as she says all the things he would have wanted to hear years ago, before she shot him, before she ripped out his heart. "I can't," he says to her with shake of his head. "I can't. This is insane and it's not you. I can't do this," he says all but shaking with the storm of emotions raging inside of him. "I'm done. I can't keep having you come at me like this. I am with America now, you're going to have to deal with that. Also, you're going to have to find someone else to find the Silencer, I'm done." With that he turns to start walking away. "No," Natasha says firmly. "I am done, Clint. You will do what you will do. It is how you are." She sighs. "But you have duty as well. I'm off the Silencer investigation-- I am compromised. You are the best chance of this investigation going well--" She snatches up her ID, and her fingers fly across it; sending a text message. While she types, she pleads-- "Wait, Clint--Agent Barton. Just wait." She has barely hit send when her messages BEEBEEP. And then again, and a third time, more insistently. "I have to sleep," Natasha says finally, ignoring the buzzing, which continues. "I will have to check into SHIELD in the morning." "I am taking a leave of absence, effective immediately. My duty means having the best person in charge-- and that is not me right now, with or without powers. Stay on the investigation, Clint." Clint stops and turns around staring at her, his head cocked to the side. A moment passes before he says "Fine, I'll stay, but get some rest. You're not you any more Nat." Then he's on his way. "No," Natasha says sadly, quietly as he walks away. "I am now finally more than just 'duty'." The message on her phone from Director Fury remains unopened for now as she goes back inside to check on Sawyer.